BookshelfDefensa de la poesiaPercy Bysshe Shelley
Defensa de la poesia
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From WikiquoteYou would not easily guess All the modes of distress Which torture the tenants of earth; And the various evils, Which like so many devils, Attend the poor souls from their birth.
Cease, cease, wayward Mortal! I dare not unveil The shadows that float o'er Eternity's vale; Nought waits for the good but a spirit of Love, That will hail their blest advent to regions above. For Love, Mortal, gleams through the gloom of my sway, And the shades which surround me fly fast at its ray.
Dar'st thou amid the varied multitude To live alone, an isolated thing?
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The complete works of Percy Bysshe Shelley1904The complete works of Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Zastrozzi1810Zastrozzi
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